Liath Uisce
by Ranekaera
Summary: "Grey Water" in Gaelic. A werehorse from Portland, Oregon moves (however illegally) to rural Ireland to get away from it all, and runs smack into one of the fairy folk. What is a snarky city girl with a country heart to do when she comes face to face with a killer from the depths used to having his own way? Rated for future chapters. I prefer ORIGINAL fairy tales.
1. Get away

Scotland was nice this time of year, but she had decided on Ireland in the end. It was green without end, and whenever she had looked at the pictures or read the old stories, her heart had ached for something like home, which was nonsense; she'd never been there, and neither had her family for around 500 years or more. There was also more open space, fewer people cared about tourists and no one would look twice at the odd wild horse.

She was a werehorse... that would look odd walking through downtown Portland, Oregon. She was getting tired of city life, too. The noise, the stress, pressure, the polution, oppression, minimum wage. She wanted freedom. So she took her latest paycheck and splurged money she didn't really have on a passport, a hotel and a rental car for a week in Ireland. It was a one way ticket... she would think of a way to stay there. When it came to living off the grid nothing did it better than an animal. Who knew, maybe she'd find a legal way to stay there. She wasn't holding her breath for one of those 'love a first sight' legal green cards.

And you could only be deported if you got caught.

So that was why she found herself driving in a strange car on the wrong side of the road in a country she'd never been before. Ireland was perfect, beautiful... so many rolling hills of green, the skies gray and overcast, her favorite weather, and the life. She could practically smell the magic in the air. When the pagans were driven out by St. Patrick, they were forced to leave a lot of it behind and the christians, they didn't know how to tap into it, so it rolled wild... she could feel it. It was an incredible feeling. One with nature. It sounded corny as hell, and she'd never say it out loud, but she loved this place from the moment she got off the plane in Dublin.

The little rental car wasn't anything new or flashy or fancy, but it was nicer than anything she'd ever driven and it was a dark cherry red. It would stand out, but that was alright. If she was ever too far away from a rental place when she was done with it, that meant it would be found and towed. And the card she'd used to rent it was no longer valid, and had no address attached to it here, so let them come find her if they wanted to.

She drove in a random direction and parked by the side of a dirt road, far enough off that the car wouldn't be hit, and she started undressing... she left her clothes on the driver's seat with a little note she kept in her wallet that said 'will return soon'and started to change.

Shifting from one shape to another was both painless, and a little painful. She weighed a hundred and seventy pounds in her human form, and at five foot two that was a little overweight. In her horse form, she trippled in all aspects, so it was a little painful. But there was magic involved, too, so it was over in such a little time that she never minded the pain.

In the end she was a handsome mare with a white coat, honey-colored mane and tail and silvery dapples on her middle and lower halves, like an apaloosa. She decided to start out at a full-out gallop, and with a wild shriek of a cry, she tore across the green green grass and decided to roll in it, soaking up the scents and sounds and everything of this Old World. Then it was more running, muscles stretching, until she ached. She ran until she trembled all over, and went in search of a lake.

This far away from the road, she couldn't see any road or buildings anymore.. she wasn't worried about anyone seeing a stray horse drinking from a lake. She took a few drinks, and decided to go for a little swim to rinse off.

The water was cold, and the iciness swept the heat ache away nicely, and then it was just a matter of rolling in the grass again. Really this had been worth every penny. She was so broke she probably wouldn't be able to buy herself dinner that night, but she'd never been one to think ahead- she preferred to live life as it came to her, and she always figured out a plan in the end. As a horse, she didn't mind eating grass or the occasional wild fruits. It translated to her human belly well enough that really she didn't see a reason to live in the cities at all. Sure there were places like this she could've gone in the U.S. but Ireland... the very meaning was island, secluded and free.

She rolled over again until she was just laying there in the grass, and looked around her, revelling in the absolute silence and breathing in the wild scents. The water smelled fresh and the grass smelled clean. Even the sky had a smell. She could roam this place forever. It felt like home already.

She didn't notice what was watching her from the water. From below the surface of the lake, a small ripple appeared and above it, a round, silvery orb of an eye. It was the sort that would reflect any light shone at it much like a dog or a cat's, but it belonged to a creature that many people feared around those parts. This one in particular was ancient, and immortal as many of the fae folk were, and he didn't like intruders on his lake.

It looked like an ordinary horse, but she had left her scent in the gentle waters. Mostly horse yes, but he also smelled human. Perhaps she was owned, and had gotten loose and perhaps she wasn't what she appeared to be, but any who intruded upon his waters was fair game.

And he was always hungry.


	2. Define eaten

She kept to that lake and thereabouts for the rest of her free-spirited jaunt for the first time in a new place. It was a cool place to drink from and rinse off, and it was relatively secluded. She made a mental note to look up the name of this particular "loch" on a map when she got a chance next. She wouldn't be overstaying her welcome officially for another six days, so until then she was a happy American tourist as far as anyone else was concerned. Portland Oregon was nice if you went up into the woods or the mountains, but she'd lived in the city. She was a small town country girl from the start, and she'd have never moved to Portland if she'd known how bleak it was going to be. Plus there had been this guy…

She had come here to get AWAY from her problems in the US. It did her no good to think back on that crap NOW. Not now that she was a four legged beast in the land of some of her ancestors, running free for the first time in years. She was an oddly colored horse, as most werehorses tended to be. In her case, it was the honey-brown colored mane and tail. It was her hair color in human form, too, and she had no idea where the Apaloosa spots and the white coat came from. She contended with vets, people trying to coral or buy her, and even once let herself be sold to help a friend who needed money for bills. She's run off soon after from that new "owner", and only felt a little bad for cheating them out of that money. To them she'd been a horse, no one knew of werecreatures. Wolves were the more popular and they would never come out of hiding.

No, it was best if people like her stayed hidden where they had been for centuries. She would never have to watch the news and hear something like "public outcry over military use of werecats for overseas stealth missions" or something to that effect. And the humans would damn well do it. The general attitude would be 'if they couldn't make themselves useful, what good were they really?' Just freaks of nature who could do something neat that the human population would never be able to do, and jealousy always led to violence. No, they were best left alone.

She wasn't the only one who thought so, nor were werecreatures the only supernatural thing still hiding. There were werecats, bats, weasels, wolves of course, foxes, even whales. Imagine being a werewhale, and needing to take a swim every full moon. It tended to run in families, or be passed down through generations, as it had with her. She could only imagine her mother's horror when she went to feed her at two and had instead found a large foal who wouldn't eat macaroni and cheese.

She was thinking all these thoughts in her mind, and didn't pay much mind to the sound of water behind her. The sky WAS overcast and the wind was blowing a little. She put it down to choppy water and had done with it. She leaned down and let her inner horse have a taste of some of the wild sweetgrass as it started to rain, and she stood up and shook herself out. She didn't mind a little rain. Water never hurt anyone. She couldn't swim as well as a horse as when she was human but she could still swim if the lake decided to overflow.

She heard another horse behind her, and looked behind her in surprise. She hadn't smelled any other horses, a few sheep that had passed days ago, but no horses. Nor had she seen a sign of other horses, but one stood there at the shore of the lake, watching her closely. She backed up a few steps and threw an inviting whinny at it, sort of saying hello, but the other horse just stayed still. It had silvery eyes and a dark brown coat, wet like seal skin and its mane was pale and sopping wet, curled and tangled with various lake weeds. It had gills. Horses did not have gills. She took another sniff, and under the scent of horse caught something that smelled cold, and electric… She had never met a witch or a fae, but the sight of the thing brought to mind stories of kelpies she had read somewhere. Water horses that lured unwitting people onto its back only to drown them and eat all but their liver or heart. If werecreatures existed, well why not fae or vampires?

She thought it would be wise not to anger him, for it took a step towards her and she saw that it was male. She never had met one of the fair folk as her old storybooks called them, but if half the stories were true, she didn't want to be the first to find out what happened when one of them met a not-human. She made a nervous sort of noise and backed up a little more, away from the lake because clearly that was what he was defending. Still he advanced on her. His mane was longer than hers was, and tangled with wet grass and his hooves were a dull dark blue and mud-caked. He bugled a challenging cry at her, and she answered by lowering her head and pushing her ears back. No threat, no threat all around.

Either he didn't believe her, or he wanted to know what she was, because one moment she was staring at a water horse and the next she was staring at what appeared to be a completely normal human man. He wore a kilt, old-school styled with a sash across the breasts, and a loose, open-throated shirt. His hair was overlong, down to the small of his back, still curled and still wet. His eyes were the same silver.

"What are you, an' why've you disturbed my loch?" he demanded.

She couldn't talk in horse form, but to change would leave her naked. She normally didn't mind it, and she didn't think creatures so close to nature would care about nudity either, so she changed back. A few bone stretches later, and she was herself again, mid-length honey-brown hair and gray green eyes.

"Werehorse," she replied meekly, offering a halfhearted sort of wave. She wasn't normally so timid, but until she got a feel for this guy… thing… creature… whatever he was, she didn't dare let him hear her tongue.

He took a few brisk, no-nonsense steps towards her, and stopped a foot away. He wasn't blinking. It was a bit unnerving.

"What is a werehorse from the New World doing so very far from home?" he asked, somewhat softer. His accent was Ireland, the oldest and thickest. The way he spoke reminded her of someone who's first language was not English. Up this close, the silver of his eyes was striking… he had decided to be a stereotype and turn into something pretty to look at. Perhaps the fairy folk DID enjoy being looked at.

"Uhm… vacation?" she offered.

"Hmph," was all he said. He took her by the face in one hand, no questions asked and more out of reflex, and she pulled away from him with a frown and a growl that was very unhorselike. He kept his grip on her chin. His hands were cold, his fingers strong.

He stared into her face for a moment and she felt like she was being examined.

She was quiet, figuring he'd find whatever it was he was looking for. Finally he let her go, leaving her skin damp in some spots though his fingers had been dry a moment before.

"What was that all about?" she huffed, rubbing at her jaw.

"Nothin' to concern a werehorse. Stay away from my loch," he said sternly, and he started to walk back into the water.

"So no swimming?" she called to his retreating back.

"Not 'less ye want to be dinner," he called back, and then he was gone.

Well that was an interesting first day out for her.


	3. The price of curiosity

She didn't have a laptop or a tablet with her, but she had seen a library the other day. If her suspicions were right, the creature she'd met yesterday had been a Kelpie. The Fae were out publically, and she'd never really spent much time with one but she knew Kelpie were far and few between. She'd heard rumors that when they decided to out themselves the leaders of them all, the Grey Lords, had killed all of the "beast minded" ones, those fae who indiscriminately killed or preyed after humans. She didn't know if Kelpie were like that.

She would find out, that's what she would do. She did her morning routine, shower, brushing and all that, and decided to walk to the library. It was another overcast day but the sun was shining brightly. She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of euphoria. She was all the way in Ireland, where the sounds of the sea and the smell of grass and brine never really went away. The sun was bright, and the air was clear, her worries were all MILES away and she just couldn't help but feel _alive_. Even the sour looks on the faces of some of the people she could see couldn't get her down. She didn't care what the locals thought of the pentagram around her throat or the obvious look of "tourist" covering her person.

The section of town the library sat in looked old. The streets were partially cobbled, the sidewalks were made of some sort of brick and every building looked as if it had been there awhile. The library was no exception. It was made of brick and limestone, with celtic-looking statued beasties out front. Yes, being here had her in an infectiously happy mood.

The librarian didn't seem pleased when she said she was looking for information on Kelpies, but she directed her to a section full of Irish Folklore and legends. She happily dragged down volume after volume and carried them all to an antique-looking rounded wooden table. Oak, she thought.

She had five of them just to start with and unlike some of the newer reprints in the Americas, these ones looked older, and original. Awesome.

The first one she looked in was a collection of different tales, but they read as if being spoken directly from the mouths of the midwives who passed them on from family to family. Every word was printed phonetically. The Irish accent was hard enough to understand when listening to it being spoken, never mind trying to read it.

The second was far easier to read. It had some interesting background information on folklore in general, and it did mention kelpies.

"_Kelpies were said to resemble magnificent horses of desirable breed, to lure riders in. Once the creature had the hapless riders upon its back its skin would become adhesive, and with its prey unable to leave, it would take them for one final swim, diving down to the river bottom and devouring them completely. Only the internal organs would be found, floating to the shore"  
_

Well that was cheerful, she thought. But it told her one thing, she probably should've been more afraid yesterday. However human the man's glamour might have appeared, there was no doubt now he was a Kelpie. She decided to look in one of the other books for anything extra.

"_Kelpies are dangerous water faeries who take the forms of handsome men, or ghoulish horses. They lure children or naïve swimmers onto their backs and drag them to the bottom and devour them."_

Well that wasn't much different from the other book. But in the third one it told a story of a sad lonely woman who met a handsome kelpie and bore him seven children. And one stormy night the beast betrayed her, and stole all seven children down to the bottom of the nearest river and she stopped reading there. A lot of these tales were designed to warn future generations of the dangers of fairies, and since the Fae had come to light publically she bet there had been a lot of "updates" on books like these, but she had a general idea. Kelpies were predators, ambush ones by the sound of it. Well that was easy. All she had to do was avoid touching him as a horse and don't bear him any kids.

Should be easy.

She put her books back and was just getting ready to start browsing for a book on horses when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned to see a pretty woman a little taller than her with seal-brown hair and soft brown eyes. Something about her felt… off. She looked like a stunningly pretty Irish girl, but some deeper alarm, perhaps the horse in her, said she was more than she seemed.

"Interestin' study topic, Kelpies. You into Fae then?" she asked. She sounded Scottish.

"Just doing a little remedial research is all. This library is pretty impressive," she said back quietly. No use in being rude, this was just a conversation so far.

The woman didn't comment on her American accent or tourists or anything, but her eyes did something odd. For just a split second they shimmered, from velvety brown to bright, inhuman silver. It was just a flicker, like the way a bad tv station will cut to static for half a second and then back again.

She tried not to let on that she'd noticed anything, just in case it hadn't been intentional..

The woman smiled, but it didn't quite reach those eyes. "Interestin'. You know some folk wouldn't be too happy knowin' an outsider's lookin' in on'em," she said, tilting her head.

She frowned then. "Some folk wouldn't be the fae, would it? Look, it's completely curiosity-driven. I'm not planning on doing anything. I'm just a tourist," she offered the woman a smile.

The woman frowned at her.

"Fine. But we like to keep eyes on people lookin' in," she told her, and she walked away with a flurry of bouncing curls and clicking heels. Zoe, for that was her name, stood there looking a little puzzled. Had that been a threat or just a randomly stated fact? She didn't think the fae would say anything that didn't have SOME meaning.

At any rate her visit had been informative in more ways than one. She left the library was a spring in her step, though now she couldn't help feeling that she was being watched. That was ridiculous, who acted THAT fast?

She cracked her neck. She needed to run again. She didn't know that she wanted to run anywhere near that lake again but perhaps somewhere close enough that she could catch just a glimpse of it-?

She didn't bother with a car this time, but rented a bicycle. It was on a whim; she happened to pass a place that offered it on her way towards a gas station for a drink and a snack. It seemed like a refreshing idea.

She mostly remembered the way. The tire tracks from the rental car were even still there. It hadn't rained just yet, though the sky looked like it really wanted to. The air had a heavy, thundery scent to it, something so powerful she could feel it arcing across her very skin. It was a nice sensation.

She set the bike in the grass, stripped, and changed. Running as a horse was a little like stretching after a good, hard night's sleep. She was free and could go as far and as fast as she wanted. There was nothing but the sensation of her hooves against earth and grass as old as the continents themselves, under a sky that was nothing like the one she'd left back home. She wondered if living here was like this all the time, for people here, or if they existed like folks back home; just a long hard miserable slog from work to back and pay the bills, no nevermind what their city looked like.

Thunder rolled across the sky and she felt a single raindrop on her flanks. If there was one thing to get her mood up it was rainstorms and a nice cool breeze. It lifted her main up and she turned into it, prancing about on two legs and rolling in the dewy grass like a foal of three weeks.

"Enjoying yourself are you?"

She sat up in the grass laying on her side like a mare giving birth and looked, startled slightly. She made a mental note in case she WAS being watched, that he had found her that time not the other way around. But it was the kelpie in human glamour again, like before. He wore the same loose shirt and the same worn tartan with the blanket part wrapped about his chest and his hair was dry now, but still curled. It was a reddish brown and waved in the wind. She would've guessed an age between thirty and thirty-five if she thought he were human.

She changed back just like that, stretched a little and said, "Quite, actually. I love the rain and I love this place".

He folded his arms, unperturbed by her nudity.

"Sorry. Can't do clothes when you change forms," she held her arms out a little.

Still he said nothing.

"Think I met one of your friends at the library earlier. Said they'd be keeping an eye on me. That mean you, or just the fae here in general?" she asked.

He approached her slowly, looking at the sky mostly, and stopped within a foot from her, and looked at the grass at his feet, as if one on the boundaries of saying something, but pausing to consider their words first. Finally he spoke.

"You're not the first to go lookin' fer us. You're not the first to find us. An' ye won't be the last. But it was a warnin'. We're best left alone, you hear?"

She frowned and plucked a piece of his hair off of her face because the wind was blowing at his back now. He sniffed at her.

"Way I see it, I was just doing curious research on Kelpies, and YOU found ME this time around," she smirked up at him.

"And what did you want to know about Kelpies exactly?" he demanded. His voice was a deadly sort of whisper and he was close enough now that he could grab her if he wanted to. The threat in his eyes didn't go unnoticed either.

"… Whatever I could find, really. I wanted to know what you were and what they were about. Been awhile since I read any old fairytales. I find the fae intriguing," she confessed.

"Bah! Fairytales…" he growled.

She decided to lay on her back in the damp grass, for it was sprinkling now, and lay with her hands laced behind her head. The post of course made her belly look sunken, making her hip bones and rubs stand out a little, and her breasts loll to the side and stand upright a bit. She wasn't worried so much about it.

"Well, since you sought me out, you must want something… so what is it?" she asked, not looking at him. Then he stood over her, looking down, and she got a good shot up his kilt that she could've honestly don without. It answered the age-old question of what did celtic men wear under the kilts. The answer was not much.

"Honestly, I wanted to know why you're here an' what a werehorse wants tauntin' a kelpie".

She laughed.

"I taunt EVERYONE, I didn't care that you were a kelpie. I can swim and when the occasion calls for it I can kick. And I can turn into a horse. Horses can run," she stipulated, holding a finger up.

He crouched down so they were more on a level and said "you should fear me".

She studied him seriously.

"The horse in me does, I think. But I'm not afraid of much," she said quietly. "I almost decided to go back to the lake and just watch for you, actually".

He frowned.

"After I warned you off? Why would you want to go back?"

She shrugged and returned her gaze to the sky.

"I like learning by observation and those books are all old and outdated. I've never met or hung out with most fae for any length of time. Maybe I wanted to know more about kelpies," she said mysteriously.

He made some sort of noise, half scoff and half growl. But then he seemed to reconsider.

"How about a deal," he offered slowly. The fae and deals were tricky business, Zoe knew. But it wouldn't hurt to hear him out.

"Go on…".

"I let ya hang around my loch, answer any questions, so long as they aren't TOO personal… what could you offer me in return?" he grinned.

She thought about that one seriously for a moment. The lake was kind of in the middle of nowhere. Any sheep that grazed there regularly had probably been moved on years ago. Then there was the road. It couldn't be too easy for him to find fresh meat, but where the hell would she find anything like that without suspicion, especially as an outsider?

"Don't suppose it'd be enough if I promised to leave you alone?" she offered.

His look said no.

"…. I can try and bring you food if you wanted. I know you'd rather hunt… probably….," she guessed.

"Live prey," he said at last.

"Pardon?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. Her breasts jiggled a little.

He looked at her with those silvery eyes and the pupils constricted like a cat's, giving him a decidedly inhuman look. "Live prey. You bring me one person anytime you want to visit, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know," he anted up the deal.

"… Isn't that accessory to murder?" she asked.

"Information comes with a price," he hissed.

She frowned again, deep in thought. Wiccan law stated 'harm none'. That included self harm, and intention to bring harm to anything living. She couldn't easily go against that, but what if the person deserved it? A murderer or … what was she even thinking?! Was her curiosity so great that she could consider something so horrible?

The answer, unfortunately, was yes. She tried to reason that it didn't make her a bad Wiccan, it just made her a terrible person.

"I'll think about it. You'll know by tomorrow if I decide to do it or not. If I don't show up, assume my answer's a no".

And she got to her feet, changed, and was off before she even gave him a chance to reply.


	4. And all t'was left were entrails

The whole way back to her motel she was deep in thought. She even forgot to grap her receipt for the bicycle when she returned it to the rental place. Trade someone's life for information. Well, the Kelpie was right, information was a powerful thing, and expensive depending on what it was, but WAS it worth the risk? Who knew he lived out there for starters, and did she really want to have that on her conscience? True she could know everything she wanted to, and it would be doing him a favor, everything had to eat… but if the person she decided to bring out there just happened to try to fight and lost, well then survival of the fittest… right?

The thoughts chased themselves all around her brain even after she'd got "home" and sat on the end of the bed. Well, hypothetically, if she did this thing, who would she bring? A homeless person, surely would be missed less? But how to lure one there? And what if the Kelpie had been lying? The fae were out to the public, people know they existed now, but they never really made the papers. They mostly kept to themselves. People SAID they couldn't lie, but others had started coining the phrase "never ask a fae, for they'll say both no and yes".

So a homeless person… perhaps she could tell them there was a buffet or a carnival out that way and did they want to go? But she had to make it sound convincing. She COULD always just turn horse and abduct someone, very much like the kelpie were rumored to, but that would probably get noticed. Most definitely. That and she didn't have adhesive skin or whatever it was.

Once again she had to really think about this, because whoever she decided to bring with her would almost certainly have a very unpleasant death, but there was so much she wanted to know… getting straight facts out of anything not human was like pulling teeth. Finally she resolved herself… she would do it, but just the once! Anything more than that and she not only risked getting caught, she risked getting into the habit, and habitual offenders of ANYTHING messed up eventually. That was why serial killers never ran free for long. But she wouldn't be a serial killer that was ridiculous… she was just a morally-questionable Wiccan who happened to be a werehorse.

Her dreams that night weren't very pleasant. She would NOT feel guilty about this, she would NOT. It was for the pursuit of knowledge and there had to be some poor homeless schmuck that was about to bite it any day, wasn't there? Hell she'd be doing them a favor.

As she dressed and things for the next morning she thought about it. No she was resolved… and she thought she knew where to start her search. There was an overpass near the train tracks not far from here, she thought it looked like a place a homeless person would hang out. She started making her way there.

The day was sunny, and the sky had that white look that it got when things were trying to be nice out, and it WAS nice out. A pleasant breeze lifted her honey-colored hair off the back of her neck and if her mind hadn't been so clouded, if her gut hadn't been so fluttery, she might have felt that same euphoric light-heartedness she'd felt since she got here, but no.

She felt like she was being watched still. She remembered the creepy pretty lady's warning yesterday and wished she didn't stand out so much. She wore a bright yellow strapless sundress and tennis shoes and had a sunflower headband in her hair. She thought she looked cute. But she stood out. Why did she have to look so cheerful today?

She looked especially out of place for the place she wound up. The underpass was dirty, dingy and very vandalized. Sure enough there were a few people milled about, two men and one woman. They wore dirty clothes that showed signed of having been washed, like so many homeless people did. They were filthy despite the fact. One of them men approached her when he noticed her. His beard was overlong and his hair was that bright carrot orange unique to the celts that you just couldn't find in a box.

" 'Ere now, what's a pretty thing like ya' doin' down 'ere, 'tain't safe this end 'o town lassie," he grumbled. She could see through the grime on his face. His eyes were a pale blue. She frowned to herself. If she was going to go through with this she couldn't get emotionally involved, not at ALL. WHY was she doing this again? Oh right. To get information out of a rare, probably-ancient mythical creature.

"Uhm, actually I was hopin' ta bring a few people t'this new fairground they're thinkin' 'o settin' up out near the moor. They're wantin' volunteers, an' I thought 'o you lot," she told the man. She winced inwardly at the improvised Irish accent she forced between her lips. She was thinking of the people here, and Mike Myers in Shrek when she did it, and she only did it because she was fairly sure no one would follow a foreigner out to the middle of nowhere.

"Eh, what's that then? A carnival needs help, y'say? I've not heard 'o no carnival, but… some extra cash would sure be nice…. " the old man seemed to muse to himself for a moment. PLEASE buy this, Zoe found herself thinking in her head. Maybe his death would be quick. She hoped it would be. Somewhere else, too she wondered if this was the all time worst thing she'd ever done, even worse than trying to stab that cat when she was 3.

"Eh, why not? 'T won't be the worst job I've ever had, an' a hot meal tonight'd be mighty nice. I'll follow ye, lass. Name's Sean," said the man at last.

"Abby," said Zoe, the lie slipping off her tongue like honey. Abby was the name of one of her favorite tv-show characters.

"Well it's nice t'meetcha Abby. Yer not from 'round here. Americas, aye?"

Zoe began walking in the direction of that lake, leading him on. It was only a couple miles outside of town, and half a mile off the main road. If she kept him talking it shouldn't take that long.

"Yeah. Oregon," she said. Quite apart from lying, she found that telling some of the truth just sounded more natural out in the open. She knew the way towards the lake by heart now. It was just about a mile and a half outside of the town. The lake, too was so small she was sure not many of the locals knew about it, and if they did she was equally certain that Mr. Kelpie kept them well-away.

Most of the way there she just made small talk. Eventually thought she thought she'd hit a snag. Once they got within sight of the lake, he'd see there was no carnival or fair, no nothing. She might have to go horse and push him there.

Just as she suspected, the lake came into sight, ringed by the occasional shrub or dead tree, and the great boulder that looked as if it'd been dropped there from the sky. The man stopped just in front of her. She had to, before he turned around… she dropped her dress and a few seconds later, she jammed her enormous head into his back, urging him forward.

He feel, scrambled to his feet and saw her at last.

"What the? Where'd you come from? What d'ya think you're doin'? Where's the girl?" he demanded. He still hadn't made the connection. She didn't want to give him a chance to see her dress in the grass behind her and put two and two together. She took two steps forward, lowered her head and gave him another nudge, not being gentle about it. She wasn't wearing horseshoes and hadn't ever.

He rolled in the grass, but she had to get him off the dirt road and into the field. She reared up a few inches and landed with a whinny, come on get up, move get going, walk she wanted to say. He tried, and stumbled again, and she tossed her head and snipped at him with her big, horsey teeth.

"The hell's wrong with ya, get off, go home! " The homeless man tried to shoo her off, but she wasn't just a horse. She had to get him closer to the lake.

She gave another whinny, and it was answered from over by the lake. The man's head whipped around and he saw what he thought was just another horse. "What is it with you bloody nags, it ain't pick on Sean day, get off!" he growled and took a swing at her. What the hell kind of maniac tried punching a horse!? Sure she wasn't being very nice, but to him she was just a horse, which meant he thought he was punching a damn horse. Who DID that?

Annoyed now, she lowered her head again and got her teeth clamped around his pants leg. It didn't taste nice, but she could drag him that way, as awkward as it must have looked. She walked backwards that way, dragging him across the grass. She was about five feet from the shore of the little lake when she finally let him go, and parried to block his path back to the road. His only route now was towards the water, but he seemed to know something was up.

"I don't feel like swimmin', ye stupid beast!" he shouted. Stupid, huh? She gave a raucous shriek and the Kelpie answered her.

The man spun around and there he was, a hulking, handsome looking stallion if it weren't for the lake weeds and the gills, the wild green eyes or the fangs. He lowered his head, got the man between the legs so he was bowled back and landed sidesaddle, and then it was a short jaunt to the water. The man, despite being very unbalanced, couldn't seem able to fall off, and Zoe could only watch as the Kelpie dragged the man she'd lured down below the water and didn't surface for fifteen solid minutes.

She stood there the entire time and just waited, a cool breeze blowing her mane and tail around her. She was just another dappled silvery gray and white horse with oddly colored hair, standing on the edge of a small lake.

Eventually there were bubbles to be seen and she watched as something floated to the surface. A sopping wet shirt. A boot. A piece of something long, gray and bloody looking. Entrails. Finally the kelpie himself surfaced, as a man, watery bloodstains around his lips like some kind of aquatic vampire. He washed his face off, getting rid of it all, and walked ashore to sit in the grass before her. He didn't look nearly so grumpy.

She backed up a few paces, and changed back, sitting across from him in the nude. She had to remember to drag her clothes with her sometime.

She felt a little sick, but she had to remind herself, this was for the sake of knowledge, of adventure, of potentially being part of something so much bigger and more spectacular than just herself. And none would probably miss the man.

"So I brought you what you wanted… against some pretty good judgement I might add," she began. She thought the first thing she might ask was why the kelpies never ate the hearts or entrails, in the old stories.

"You did… so now you get to interrogate me," he replied, with a smirk she didn't care much for. It said that he HAD got what he wanted, and he had every confidence he could get it again. She would just see about that. As handsome as his human form was, he wasn't winning HER over, she knew what lurked beneath. And besides, his breath probably smelled like dead fish.

"Why don't you ever eat the heart or the entrails?" she asked.

He took a moment to answer.

"Entrails, bowels… nasty stuff. Filters. Not remotely appetizing. As for the heart, that one is trickier. It's….," he frowned a moment, while he thought. "an emotional organ. By itself, just another muscle but the importance people place on things gives them a power all their own. We can't bear to stomach such things. Love is a powerful magic all its own" he said at last. She scoffed.

"Right, all that true love garbage… how cliché," she made a gag-face.

"Don't. There's more truth to it than Hollywood would have folk believe," he waggled a finger at her.

Storm clouds rolled by overhead, as if summoned by the horrible deed she and the Sidhe before her had just committed. She felt that faint zinging sensation across her arms again and knew this one was going to be bad. It got chillier, and she decided to get up, breasts swinging, and job back across the grass to grab her sundress before it got too wet to put on. She came back wearing it and resumed her place, completely shameless. If he'd been watching, he didn't make it obvious.

"Was that all?" he asked.

She frowned at him. "Hardly. Tell me about you, about this place," she invited.

"…. Which would you prefer first?"

She heaved a great sigh. Fairies, fae, Sidhe, Sprites, Fair Folk, call them what you would. Damn things were specific.


End file.
